My firstborn has called several times since college started, when he chooses, and just to chat. I never know when his number will pop up on my cell, but it’s every few weeks or so, and always a pleasure.
As for my younger, it’s been a different story.
I told myself there would be no “helicopter parenting” from afar – and I’ve long since loosened those apron strings. And how did I leave things when we parted?
It was with a breezy “call me now and then, so I know you’re alive,” as I left him – 900 miles away in his new life.
There’s been very little contact since I moved him into school, and honestly, I haven’t been worried. But I am surprised at how deeply I miss him. I had grown accustomed to his brother being gone for long periods of time, but not my “little one” – who is certainly no longer little.
Hello, Empty Nest? You weren’t supposed to hurt this much!
Fortunately, I’ve had the pleasure of some charming company in the vicinity. While it has involved a foreign language I don’t speak fluently (um, that would be “Guy Talk”), I admit, a delightful and very masculine presence has taken some of the sting out of this challenging time of transition.
Still, considering that my mysterious artistic kid caused more gray hair than his (seemingly) wilder brother, the lull (and ache) left by his departure is considerable. For one thing – there isn’t much chaos! Might I simply mention a 17-kid teenage sleepover in our cozy space? Or our months of Hell-Thru-College-Apps? Dare I even begin to tell the tales of the driving dilemmas, the kid who wouldn’t talk, the countless commotions over lost keys, and the boating accident just before the school year started?
You’d think the ability to begin reclaiming my life – for me – would be very welcome. And it is. But it’s also been an adjustment. And those goodbyes may be a somewhat different experience for single parents, to whom empty nest really does mean empty.
Certainly, the lessening of daily worry, the active where-is-he-now or what-is-he-up-to worry that occurs with kids of all ages, and worse (in so many ways) with teens – well, I don’t miss that. It isn’t that there’s no worry – but it’s more diffuse, and a growing sense that I’ve raised two boys who have good judgment and will take care of themselves – and those they call friends and loved ones.
About two weeks back I got a phone call for no reason whatsoever, from my younger son. He caught me by surprise, and out of curiosity, I timed it.
Four minutes.
Four minutes during which he filled the air time with substance (not like the quiet kid he once was), told me he was doing well (though he sounded tired), assured me he was making friends (adjusting quickly), and that the work was incredibly hard (but very cool).
And then he asked how I was.
And he asked, like he genuinely meant it.
Not only was I Mom again, actively, for those four minutes – listening and asking questions, reading the register of his voice and assessing how he is – but he was concerned about me.
There are times our children surprise us by becoming exactly who we hope we’ve raised them to be.
I had to work to keep the emotion out of my voice – the appreciation for his asking, the genuine warmth in his voice, and I was proud of the kid who hadn’t slept in a considerable time, but took four minutes between classes to call.
To say hello.
To be my son.
And for those precious four minutes, for me to be his Mom.
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This made me cry. I remember being on that other side of the phone. I know my mom wanted more then I could give her. I was so hurt when she dropped me at the airport with words about how excited she was to have her nest empty. I dragged myself and my stuff across a new city, up to a tiny room. I felt independent and bold and scared and left. And I didn’t want to call. I thought it was unwanted. (It wasn’t. Hello denial) But those first weeks at school, those were magical times.
This makes me feel better, Kate. But I wonder if your mom was really excited about empty nest, or said that, thinking it would make you feel better.
As for my kid, I didn’t just leave him (we spent 3 days together, seeing the city where he is and the college campus for the first time). We hung out, we talked, we ate, we wandered. It was genuinely wonderful time – for me, at least – and I hope not unpleasant for him.
Those first real tastes of independence – they’re so important. Everyone deserves them – in full vigor and with parents trusting that you’ll be strong enough to manage. And hopefully, with the kids knowing that if they do need something, we’re still here, ready to pull out the big guns (or small), to help.
Strange though. It’s still so much harder than I thought it would be.
I love this line: “There are times our children surprise us by becoming exactly who we hope we’ve raised them to be.” What more could a parent ask for?
You’ve done good, lady.
xo
Oh I understand your words and emotions very strongly at this time. My son has called a little more often in past weeks (as he has a girlfriend who makes him). My youngest calls often but her calls are becoming less frequent as she settles in a little more.
I don’t see any need for you to hide that emotion. I am sure he would love to hear the excitement in your voice when he asks how you are.
What a proud mother you must be. Pat yourself on the back mom on a job well done.
I am sure they will continue to surprise you.
Crying…. I miss my boys.
Don’t cry! (You’ll make me cry… Shit. Already having one of those days…)
Do we need a Moms-Who-Miss-Our-Kids Party? ($2.79 wine at Whole Foods is pretty good – and in my budget!)
All in favor???
*Raising hand*
My hand is raised high! Too many tears today….glad to have someone to commiserate with. Maybe tomorrow will be better for everyone.
Eeek! That was both sad and incredibly sweet!
Like Kristen, my favorite line – “There are times our children surprise us by becoming exactly who we hope we’ve raised them to be.”
Those are moments to savor and I’m so glad you wrote about it for us. My boys are 15 and 12. Already, I’m becoming sensitive and teary-eyed in anticipation of how our time together will fly by and I will find myself in your single mom, empty nest shoes. Thanks for helping to prepare me by paving the way and sharing your experiences.
Susan, Thanks so much for reading and commenting. 15 and 12. You have a few challenging years ahead. But I have to say (to counteract all those who say that teenagers are terrors) – there is much to thoroughly enjoy in these next 5 or 6 years. So much change, still so much influence over their views (about themselves and the girls-to-women in their lives), and plenty of laughter along with the headaches, the worries, and the bucks-out-the-window…
I hope you stop back again and share some of your tales.
Catching up here after two weeks unplugged (mostly). You know, I think of my mother every time I read about your process of adjustment — she has said in recent years how much her life was defined by being our mother and “nothing else” (her words — she stopped pursuing a career before I was born and regrets it now, though she never felt that way while we were hers to raise). When we were finally all out of the nest, the identity crisis that hit her was staggering. Who was she if she was “no longer” our mother? What was she supposed to do with herself?
Having been a witness to that difficult and painful time for her, I am glad to know you had — before your son left — other parts of your own life that you kept in the picture (if not the balance) that you can now lean on as you redefine what “normal” is.
I DREAD the college drop off 🙁
Thanks for stopping by and reading, Nancy. It is certainly not the experience we necessarily expect!
Luckily, my mom and I have had years since to unpack those feelings. She said she looked forward to the empty nest thinking she felt it, but has told me since that she was deeply in denial about what was happening. She had a few really rough years. The empty nest called everything in her life into question. Her work. Her marriage. Everything. Transitions are scary at any age. And she was deeply hurt that I didn’t reach out to her more. Oh, for clear communication! Mothers and daughters. We can be hard on each other.
I love that your son asked after you. It touched me deeply.
Your yearning for him comes through so strongly in this post. Obviously, he misses you too.
My eldest is only 14 but I’m already dreading the day …
Enjoy the next couple of years, Tiffany!
Oh, Wolf. What a gift. High five Mama!
And he called again the other night, Rudri! (So delightful. He sounds confident and in his element. And once again – he was checking to see how I was…) 🙂
Our son (nine) asks, “How was your day?” a few times a week, when he gets home from school. He’s done this for years. Where does it come from?
@Wolf – That’s adorable…
They begin to call more as they get older and they ask more questions about how we are. It’s truly an amazing thing! It’s in those moments that we get to sit back and realize what a good job we’ve done raising them. Launching children is one of those bittersweet things—a loss and a gain. We wouldn’t want it otherwise but mourn the everyday-ness of mothering.
Good to know they’ll call more often! Still – I want them to enjoy their independence and their own lives, so not calling too often tells me all is well. But it is bittersweet, yes. And as it should be, I think.
Oh my goodness. You made me cry. While my two little hellions (age 6 and 3) run me ragged, I can’t think of them leaving yet. You are handling this so gracefully!!!
Oh Pamela, you’re so sweet, thank you. (Vast amounts of Dior eye makeup are currently being consumed… ) 😉